I knew from the very moment things seemed to go awry that God was going to teach us something. Certainly, I haven't learned it all yet, and I suspect I've just barely scratched the surface of this trial. But our daughter's ruptured appendix and recovery from septic shock has been the biggest trial of my life.
The reasons are many, multi-layered, and very personal. I'm not sure I can even sort through them yet. I'm recovering from her recovery.
In the forefront of lessons learned or yet to be learned is this: I'm sorry. I can't do that. Thanks, Elizabeth. You are a brave woman who has shown me exactly what I needed to see.
A little addendum. I wrote this post a few days ago, but on Saturday night our two-year-old had a seizure. I know. It was out of the blue, the first seizure any of our kids have had to our knowledge, and completely unexpected. He spiked a 103 temp afterward, so we are relieved to know it was a common febrile seizure.
Now the phrase, "I'm sorry. I can't do that" carries even more weight.